My first audition experience...

Despite what the title says, this was not technically my first audition. I "auditioned" for my senior production in high school.....but, I was already cast before the actual audition. Also, at the end of last semester, I auditioned for the spring shows here at App, but again, the audition process isn't that "professional" so I don't count that either.

But this past Saturday, February 13th, I, along with 8 other people from my department, auditioned for Boone's outdoor summer drama Horn In The West. Horn In The West tells the story of how the city of Boone was settled and how it got it's name......from Daniel Boone if you hadn't already figured that out.

I woke up Saturday morning at 7:00 am and showered and got ready, then I picked up my friend Liz at her dorm and we made our way to the theater where auditions were being held. We got there around 8:30 and the doors didn't open until 9 so we sat in the jeep and ate blueberry muffins. Around 9, the rest of our friends showed up and we went inside and filled out the audition form and turned in our resumes and headshots and got our audition numbers. At this point, it's about 9:30 and dance auditions didn't start until 10:30, so some of us walked to Burger King for breakfast and coffee.

Around 10:15 we walked back and changed and stretched/warmed up. The dance auditions were pretty easy. We did a few ballet moves across the stage and a warm up movement exercise and then we learned an easy/short little routine. Then we partnered up and did lifts. Like i said, very simple. It only took 30 minutes.

After the dance auditions were over, we all went back up to the warm up room and changed clothes and then lined back up downstairs for our monologue auditions. Since our group of friends got their first, we were all grouped together....it was great! Lucky me thought got the first number so I had to go first.....the one person out of the group who had never done a professional audition before!! Well, the monologue that I performed was from Lost In Yonkers by Neil Simon and the song I sung was a small bit from His Eye Is On The Sparrow. My monologue went very well! I didn't struggle for a line at all and once I started it, I don't really remember doing it....it happened so naturally. But then we got to the song. I sang it a capella and I started on too high of a note. I was so nervous singing I could hear it in my voice and the whole time I was just ready to get the song over with. I don't even know if I sang the right words in the right order!! But I finally finished the song and walked off and sat down. I can't describe how I felt afterwards.

After everyone had finished, we waited outside for about 5 or 6 minutes and when they brought the call back list out we had all gotten called back for either chorus or acting and some for both! Once we signed up for a call back time slot we all went to Los Arcorois and ate lunch.

Chorus auditions started at 2:30 so we got back to the warm up room and sat around for about 45 minutes til those started and we ended up all doing the call back as a group so they could see if we could sing together as a group. That was kind of annoying because we aren't singers, we're actors. But we did sound good together.

It's now about 3:20 and my friend Will and I had been called back to read together, for the two young leads. So we got our scripts and found a place at the theater to rehearse for a while because our call back time was at 4. Keep in mind that it's around 3:20, so we don't think we have that much time. So, we run through our lines a few times and figure out exactly what we want to do with blocking and interaction because our two characters are love interests. Luckily, Will and I have great chemistry together so it wasn't that hard to figure out.

We don't end up doing our call back until 6. Somehow, they got really behind. Did I mention that it was about 45 degrees in the hallway?!?! It was......the air conditioner was on and no one knew how to turn it off. It was ridiculous! Once Will and I finally were able to get into the theater we did great! I think the director was really surprised out how well we worked together because we did two scenes together and after each one we heard her say "Wow!" "Oh! Good!" Haha, so hopefully we made an impression!

I can't explain how amazing Saturday was! Besides the bitter cold and the waiting around, I had such a good time!! I went into this audition not confident and nervous and not expecting anything to come of it and I end up reading for the lead role!! Do you understand how excited I am going to be if Will and I get cast as the leads?! I'd be just as excited for the understudies because we still get to act and get paid! I wish I could explain to you how freaking amazing that would be!! It's unimaginable! The bad thing is is that we won't find out for another 5 or 6 weeks because they have 2 more auditions to hold.....1 at NCTC and then they hold a 2nd audition in Boone in March I think. But oh I hope we get it!!

"the lonely will fly..."

This is a song by Edwin McCain and i have fallen in love with it so much!!

[Caleb, this is the song that reminds me of you.]

Write Me A Song

"Kelly is raising her son
His dad left just after the birth
And now she's living on child support checks
I guess that's all that man was worth
She said I just need a man who will love me
But they all just want one night of sin
I know our life could be better
I just don't know where I should begin

She said write me a song
One that makes all the girls cry
And the old women swoon
With the sound of my tune
And the hearts of the lonely will fly
Yeah, they'll fly

Beth she sings straight from her heart
She's hidden her tracks very well
But these days she's fallin' apart
And it makes me feel just like hell

She says, boy, you can't imagine my life
The death and the drugs and the pain
And though I keep running
I just can't seem to break from these chains

She said write me a song
Fill it all up with words
Like brilliant and heavenly
Make it sound just like me
Just like the first time I love you was heard

And now write me a song
One that makes all the girls cry
And the old women swoon
At the sound of my tune
And the hearts of the lonely will fly

We're all feeding our lonely
Like it might go away
The doors of heaven swing wide
If we just find the right words to say

She said write me a song
Fill it all up with words
Like brilliant and heavenly
Make it sound just like me
Just like the first time I love you was heard

And now write me a song
One that makes all the girls cry
And the old women swoon
At the sound of my tune
And the hearts of the lonely will fly"

Poetry by Rives

I've just discovered a poet who I think I like very much. He goes by Rives (pronounced reeves). There is some language and a little bit of sexual imagery, but appreciate it as poetry, not moral teachings. My favorite is "Kite".

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bZsmneEtdWU&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XptoJ_UoeM8&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v4fVoT4P9Kw&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w5wbToZkJwY&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gu_PQBmk-6c&feature=channel

I love when poetry chills....

This is a poem my friend Tim wrote and performed at the APO (Alpha Psi Omega) Variety Show this past Saturday. I knew he wrote poetry, but I had never heard or read any of his stuff. I got chills when he performed this. It was amazing! So, I thought I'd share it with ya'll. Enjoy :o)

The Wrong Apology (Tim Reis)

I try not to catch your eye anymore.
I try to avoid it because I know
Every time I do,
You'll smile,
Giggle,
And I’m weak so I smile too.
And I don’t know if you can read it,
But somewhere on my face,
Be it my half-fought grin
Or quick-shift eyes,
Invisible ink tattoos every word we can’t say.
"Run away with me”
Is but a pentimento of our stare,
Hidden just below the artwork;
Shown to only the most trained eyes.
The ghost of secret emotion
Possesses our shared smile
To the point that it takes life of it’s own,
Lingering until it’s resparked by another furtive glance.
So forgive me,
But I try not to catch your eye anymore.

I shy away from your touch.
An incidental brush is too much
Yet, I can’t resist taking your hand in mine,
Holding you close,
Running my fingers through your hair.
Your skin is a drug.
As my hand finds your spine I feel more alive
But die a little more from every withdrawal.
Every deep embrace,
And my heart races at the thought of being so near to yours.
Your head on my chest,
My heartbeat slows
To avoid any disturbance that could wake you, Shake you from your meditation and make you leave, Breaking in two
This perfect fit of you and I,
Leaving a hole custom-fitted for you.
But it’s a hole I never knew until you left it.
So don’t hold it against me
If I shy away from your touch.

Now maybe my apologies are misplaced.
When our eyes don’t meet,
They wander,
Taking innocence with them
Until we’re all lost in unfulfilled fantasy.
So maybe it’s good that I have nothing to say Because I have nothing that should be heard.
Maybe my every word will just cause more hurt than good.
Maybe I should move on.
If I can’t have you,
Someone should.
Someone deserving of you.
Of your eyes,
Smile,
Touch,
Love.
So please, accept my last apology.
I'm sorry if I let you go.

"It was a pleasure to burn..."

The following is the introduction by Ray Bradbury to the illustrated adaptation of Fahrenheit 451. I love what he says about the connection between writing and the author.

"Back in 1950, I dined out one night with a friend. Later in the evening we were walking along Wilshire Boulevard when a police car stopped and an officer got out and asked us what we were doing.

'Putting one foot in front of the other,' I said, not very helpfully.

The policeman kept questioning us as to why we were being pedestrians, as if by taking a late-night stroll we were coming perilously close to breaking the law. Irritated, I went home and wrote a story called 'The Pedestrian.'

Several weeks later, I took my pedestrian out for a literary walk where he encountered a young girl named Clarisse McClellan. Seven days later, the first draft of The Fireman was finished, which was the novella that turned into Fahrenheit 451 not long after.

Some years later, looking back, I thought 'The Pedestrian' was the true source of Fahrenheit 451, but my memory was incorrect. I now realize other things were at work in my subconscious.

It is only now, some fifty years after that L.A. police officer challenged my right to be a pedestrian, that I see the odd ideas that rose to perform in short stories, which went unnoticed as I wrote them.

I wrote a tale about the greatest fantasy authors in history being exiled to Mars while their books were burned on Earth. That became a story called 'The Exiles.'

I wrote another tale, 'Usher II,' in which my hero complains that he, as a fantasy writer, is rejected by the intellectuals on Earth who make fun of the grotesques that sprang up in the tales of Edgar Allan Poe and other similar authors.

And years before that, I published another novella, called Pillar Of Fire, in which a dead man rises from the grave to reenact the strange lives of Dracula and Frankenstein's monster.

All of these stories were forgotten when I first wrote Fahrenheit 451. But they were still there, somewhere, percolating in my subconscious.

What you have before you now is a further rejuvenation of a book that was once a short novel that was once a short story that was once a walk around the block, a rising up in a graveyard, and a final fall of the House of Usher.

My subconscious is more complicated than I ever imagined. I've learned over the years to let it run rampant and offer me its ideas as they come, giving them no preference and no special treatment. When the time is right, somehow they coalesce and erupt from my subconscious and spill onto the page.

In the case of the final version of Fahrenheit 451, illustrated here, I brought all my characters onstage again and ran them through my typewriter, letting my fingers tell the stories and bring forth the ghosts of other tales from other times.

I am the hero, Montag, and a good part of me is also Clarisse McClellan. A darker side of me is the fire chief, Beatty, and my philosophical capacities are represented by the philosopher Faber.

I put them all together, shook them up, and poured them forth, pretending not to notice what I was doing. At the end of a number of days and a further number of weeks, I had a novel.

Thank god that I didn't, at any time in the last twenty or thirty years, know exactly what I was doing, so that each of these parts of me was able to step forth and declare itself. Each character in Fahrenheit 451 has his or her moment of truth; I stayed quietly in the background and let them declaim and never interrupted.

So what you have here, now, is a pastiche of my former lives, my former fears, my inhibitions, and my strange and mysterious and unrecognized prediction of the future.

I say all this to inform any teachers or students reading this book that what I did was name a metaphor and let myself run free, allowing my subconscious to surface with all kinds of wild ideas.

Similarly, in the future, if some teacher suggests to his or her students that they conceive metaphors and write essays or stories about them, the young writers should take care not to intellectualize or be self-conscious or overanalyze their metaphors; They should let the metaphors race as fast and furious and freely as possible so that what is stirred up are all the hidden truths at the bottom of the writer's mind.

It would not be proper for me, fifty years on, to overanalyze and pontificate about my book, because it was written by the other me, by the inner self, by the fun-loving and free-ranging young Ray Bradbury.

Finally, may I suggest that anyone reading this introduction should take the time to name the one book that he or she would most want to memorize and protect from any censors or 'firemen.' And not only name the book, but give the reasons why they would wish to memorize it and why it would be a valuable asset to be recited and remembered in the future. I think this would make for a lively session when my readers meet and tell the books they named and memorized, and why."

Praise Without Song

The Bible reads:

"Listen, my people, and I will speak; I will testify against you, Israel:  I am God, your God. I bring no charge against you concerning your sacrifices or concerning your burnt offerings, which are ever before me. I have no need of a bull from your stall or of goats from your pens, for every animal of the forest is mine, and the cattle on a thousand hills. I know every bird in the mountains, and the creatures of the field are mine. If I were hungry I would not tell you, for the world is mine, and all that is in it. Do I eat the flesh of bulls or drink the blood of goats? Sacrifice thank offerings to God, fulfill your vows to the Most High and call on my in the day of trouble; I will deliver you, and you will honor me."  -Psalm 50: 7-15

David Crowder's interpretation of these verses in his book "Praise Habit: Finding God In Sunsets & Sushi" reads:

"This is God, your God, speaking to you. I don't find fault with your acts of worship, the frequent burnt sacrifices you offer. But why should I want you blue-ribbon bull, or more and more goats from your herds? Every creature in the forest is mine, the wild animals on all the mountains. I know every mountain bird by name; the scampering field mice are my friends. If I get hungry, do you think I'd tell you? All creation and its bounty are mine. Do you think I feast on venison or drink droughts of goats' blood? Spread for me a banquet of praise, serve High God a feast of kept promises, And call for help when you're in trouble - I'll help you, and you'll honor me." (Crowder 78-79)

Our purpose here on earth is to bring honor and glory to God. A lot of times, we believe that by living a good life, telling others that we're a Christian and singing songs to Him, we are bringing Him that desired honor and glory.  "We may argue, 'Isn't that praise? Songs = Praise, right?' " (Crowder 82) David Crowder describes them as more like burnt offerings.  The songs that we sing, the hands that we raise and even the tears that we cry are just physical shows of how we want to feel towards God.  When we become emotional at the sound of Christ's death on the cross put into flowery, methodical rhythms we're showing that we feel guilty for putting Christ through that.  When we raise our hands as high above our heads as they will go, we're showing the world how overwhelming Christ's goodness is to us.  But God doesn't need, nor does He want, those melodies of proclamation:

"I don't find fault with your singing songs.  But do you think I'm in great need of music?  Do you think it is too quiet where I am?  Did I not make the air molecules to vibrate and dance in such a way to let melody float from here to there?  Do you think I am in great need of hearing these songs that were my breathings in the first place?" (Crowder 81-82)

Why can this singing become a problem? Because "often they're nothing more than ritual, and at their worst they can be provoking to God."  I know at times I've gone through bad days, or weeks, or even months where I lacked any form of christian support or influence or activity.  Then, once in a group setting of worshipers, the music starts and suddenly I'm overwhelmed by the power, love and mercy of God, simply because of a few lines of a song.  My hands are raised and my eyes are shut with a thin line of tears around the edge.  Then, the next week, when I join these fellow worshipers, it's the same thing.  I feel God wrap His arms around me and I am over come with Love.  The provoking thing to God about this, is that this has been the first time that I've felt His presence all week since the last time I had my hands raised and eyes shut during singing.  

So, while God is asking us to praise Him, it's not just singing that He's asking for. He's asking for "praise living. It is God leaning and shouting, 'I am the center!' and the sum of our lives nodding back in agreement." (Crowder 82)

"According to this psalm, even the simplicity of calling out to Him in times of trouble is considered the truer sacrifice [the truer praise]. How surprising is that? And how easy? Higher than our ritual is the simple acknowledgement that, in truth, He is what we need. We, like the Israelites, often find rescue in the burnt offering [the worship song] and not in the God who is the source of all. We find comfort in the song and not in the Comforter."

So next time your walking down the street humming Amazing Grace to yourself, look up at the sky, watch the squirrel running up the tree, or smile at the stranger walking towards you, and then thank God for the little things that He's placed in your life that are meant to evoke praise. Because "when you begin to find Him in all the stuff of life, everything starts singing. Every moment breaks into song. Every breath becomes sacrifice, and the songs become sweetness. This is living praise." (Crowder 82)

Crowder, David. Praise Habit: Finding God in Sunset and Sushi. NavPress. Colorado Springs, CO. 2004.

Father versus father

God's will and calling is my ultimate desire and duty.  But when it contradicts what your parents want......???  I am beset with the decision between follow my parents order or follow my heart and what I know God is calling me to do this month.  For now, I will do what I can and with the time I have, answer to God.  In a few days, I will confront my parents with the latter and see how they take it.  I'm not looking forward to it, but I have a few days before I have to face them.  Please pray that they will understand, for once, my need to be where God is calling me.